One of us
by imafish
Summary: When fate leads him to Ame after being exiled, Hatake Sakumo finds his life entangled with those of three young rebels. But what will he do when they are woven into the schemes of a madman, whose goal is to destroy the village that Sakumo still loves?
1. Prologue: Exile

PROLOGUE

A/N: Hello everyone! I just wanted to tell you that this story is a redone version of _Untitled_. I wrote this because I feel that _Untitled_ is badly done, however, I don't want to give up on it. This story will be similar but there will also be major changes. Please review and tell me what you think.

This story is dedicated to Obsidian Fire and Blacknayami for their amazing help with name suggestions for_ Untitled_. I never ended up choosing a name but both of these two helped by offering great suggestions. Thanks guys! This story's for you!

Disclaimer: You should know by now that I think disclaimers are pointless.

* * *

_There are no landmarks, only_

_Those you imagine, or those made by rocks _

_That fell from heaven. _

_Did you ever know where you are going? _

_Am I as invisible to you _

_As you always were to me, fellow traveler?_

_You are not here for nothing._

_There are no easy ways of seeing, riding _

_The waves of invisible seas_

_In marvelous vessels which are always _

_Arriving or departing._

_I have come to uncover the famous secrets _

_Of earth and water, air and fire._

_I have come to explore and contain them all. _

_I am an eye. _

_I need tons of yellow space and nothing _

_In this spectrum is unknown to me. _

_I am the living center of your sight; I draw for you_

_This thin and dangerous horizon._

* * *

Prologue

Funny things, candles. They seem to be the opposite of everything. Humans start out small and get bigger as they grow older. Candles, they start out tall and proud, until you light them on fire. Then they burn down, becoming a little less of what they once were with each passing second. And in the end, there's only a wisp of smoke, like a soul, finally free, and headed for a better place.

Sometimes, a merciful gust of wind, or a sympathetic sigh can lengthen their lives. But these are rare in the world we live in. There is no mercy among killers. There is no sympathy among betrayers.

Did you know that when an Uchiha turns on his sharingan, he sees the world in shades of red and black? Sometimes I sit for hours, staring at the hideous crimson world, wreathed in shadows of darkness. Then I close his eye -_not mine, it was never mine_- and I imagine. I can live in my own head for hours. I can imagine myself and the others growing up, getting married, growing old, dying painlessly in our sleep.

I can imagine everything, anything, so long as it's different from reality.

* * *

_6 years old._

Today my father has been summoned to fight. I know what this means. He'll go to see the Hokage and then he'll be gone for several days. Finally, he'll come back to me, wearing someone else's blood like war paint. The light in his eyes will dim.

But I won't care about that. I never have. At least he'll be home.

* * *

Tou-san has been gone for five days. I usually stay on my own, but this time Sensei has moved into our living room. He tries to hide it, but I know he's worried.

He took me out for ramen last night and a woman was glaring at me and hissing angry-sounding words to her friends. Sensei pulled me away quickly, but I caught one word. It hung in the air between us like poison.

_Traitor._

I asked Sensei why she said that. He smiled sadly down at me and didn't answer. Maybe Tou-san will tell me when he comes home.

* * *

It has been eight days. I mark them on a piece of paper. I sit on the steps at night waiting for my father until Minato-sensei calls for me to come in.

* * *

He's back!

I came back from training today to see a curl of smoke from our chimney. Sensei told me to go on ahead. He sometimes comes with me to welcome Tou-san home, but today he turned away. His happy smile was gone too, but I was too busy running to the house to ask him what was wrong.

I burst through the doors, and immediately knew that something was wrong. The air felt heavy and dark. I saw muddy footprints on the ground and my father's vest thrown carelessly over a chair.

With growing fear, I padded quietly down the hallway. His study door was ajar. Light spilled from the cracks and I could see his shadow stretch from underneath it.

I pushed the door open.

My father sits on the floor, leaning against his desk. His head has tipped back, his silver hair dirty and tangled. A week's worth of stubble covers his stern jaw, and his dark eyes are closed. He is covered in dried blood, and one hand clutches a bottle of sake like a lifeline.

His tanto dangles from his other hand.

"Tou-san?" I whisper, feeling like I'm intruding. His head snaps up so quickly that I take a step back in surprise, but his harsh gaze softens.

"Kakashi," he murmurs, motioning with the bottle for me to come closer.

I walk to his side and pull the sword from his grasp. To this day, I don't know why I did that. I put the sword down on his desk and sit down next to my father. We sit in silence. Normally he would pick me up and tell me all about the people he saved, and the enemies he defeated. His deep laugh will shake the air and his black eyes will shine brighter than the stars. But tonight he is as silent as a corpse.

* * *

The next morning I try to pretend that everything is normal. I am louder than usual to make up for my father's silence. I ask him if he going on a mission today and he shakes his head. I wonder aloud if we could train together today and he tells me in a lifeless voice that he has to stay in the house. When I ask why, he shakes his head again and walks to the dojo, but I know he's not going to train.

I leave. I can't bear the silence anymore. I train all day with Sensei and he is surprised by how hard I work. But during our evening session I tell him that I have to go home. He stares at me with his warm blue eyes for a long moment before nodding.

I run home as quickly as I can. I don't know why. I feel as if something terrible is going to happen. The wind whips my silver bangs into my face.

I throw open the door, and my father and Jiraiya both turn to look at me in surprise. So quickly that I barely see it, Jiraiya whips a piece of paper off of the table and shoves it into his vest. I manage to catch sight of the stamp on it before he can hide it and wonder why he has a scroll marked with the Hokage's personal seal.

"Jiraiya-san," I pant, putting my hands on my knees while trying to catch my breath. "Did you just get here?"

"Yeah," the bear-like man surveys me intensely, his gaze unusually serious. "Aren't you supposed to be training?"

I blush slightly and am glad for my mask. "Kushina-san came to see Sensei," I lie, turning to look at my father.

He gazes back at me with his coal-colored eyes. He looks just as rough as yesterday, and he smells like alcohol. One of his hands is clenched on the table, and I can see it shaking. I avert my eyes from his penetrating stare, and my gaze falls on the table immediately to Tou-san's left.

His tanto lies on the table, and the polished blade smirks at me as I run from the room, trying-and failing-to hold back my tears.

* * *

I sit in the massive oak tree behind our house and try to stop myself from crying. I don't even know why I'm so upset. Maybe it's because my father is acting so strange. Shinobi rule #25, I chant in my head. Shinobi rule #25. When darkness falls, I am still in the tree.

I decide not to move until my father comes to get me. When I see a lantern bobbing below me and hear a deep voice, my heart leaps. I lean from the tree and prepare to jump into his strong arms, but then I see white hair below me.

I close my tired eyes and pretend not to hear Jiraiya calling my name.

* * *

After Jiraiya finally leaves, I slip out from under my covers. I walk into my father's room, only to find him missing. I search the house and finally find him on the balcony. He is holding another bottle of sake, rocking slightly in the wooden chair. A large dog is curled up on his bare feet and he stares absently off into the distance.

Without a word, I climb onto his lap. He jumps at the contact and I frown.

I never used to be able to sneak up on him before the mission.

He takes another pull from the bottle and wraps a warm arm around me. I snuggle into his embrace and pretend that everything is going to be all right.

I have almost fallen asleep when he speaks. His voice is hoarse from misuse.  
"See that man?" He nods his head across the street and I look up tiredly, then narrow my eyes in confusion. The street is empty. There is no man in sight.

I glance up at him, but his jaw is clenched angrily. "He was my best friend, and my second-in-command on the mission."

Immediately I assume that the man is dead. "I'm sorry-" I start to say but he cuts me off.

"They were captured by the enemy." His face is so angry that I can hardly recognize him. "I escaped. I was supposed to complete the mission."

He pauses and I watch him warily. Suddenly his features all collapse. "I went back for them. I killed the guards and I got them out of there." His eyes are haunted. "They were angry. They were yelling at me. _Why didn't you finish it_?" He laughs so bitterly that I jump in surprise. The alcohol-scented words pour from his mouth like a river. "Tell me, son, who have I failed? My comrades? The Hokage? The village?"

I stare up at him in horror. I don't know what to say. Suddenly my mind flashes back to the woman in the streets. The word slips out of my lips before I can stop it.

"Traitor."

He goes so still that I think he's made of stone. I don't know what to say. I don't know how to apologize, so I do the only thing I can do; I leave. I slip off of his lap and make my way to the door. His words stop me before I can turn the handle.

"I did the right thing." I look over my shoulder and see his eyes blaze defiance at me. It is the most emotion he has shown in days.

* * *

After Kakashi leaves, Sakumo takes another long drink of sake. He rests his clenched fist on his knee and stares ahead angrily. He opens his mouth and tries the word out for himself, the word that everyone murmurs when they see him. The word that his son just threw at him.

"Traitor."

The bottle breaks in his tight grip, spraying him with sake and shards of glass. He stares at his bleeding hand, closes his eyes and reaches for his tanto.

He holds it out in front of him, angling the blade towards himself and imagines how easy it would be. He leans lightly on the tip and holds it there for a long moment. Then his eyes snap open as he feels a rush of wind and he sees the man standing in front of him.

Namikaze Minato reaches out and wrenches the sword from Hatake Sakumo's grip.

* * *

The stares pierce me as I walk down the streets. The words crawl into my ears and stay there for hours, whispering to me while I try to push them away.

"_Did you hear about the White Fang?"_

"_Some hero-"_

"_His fault my husband's dead-"_

"_-Abandoned a mission, can you believe it?"_

"_Disgrace-"_

"_That's __**his**__ son."_

"_Wonder if he knows what his father did?"_

"_Going back to war-"_

"_Traitor-"_

_Traitor._

_Traitor._

_Traitor. _

_Traitor._

Sticks and stones can break my bones, but words hurt much more. Words can break my heart.

* * *

**A week goes by. **

**Time doesn't matter when you're not moving with it.**

**A month. **

**A year. **

**I could sit in front of my calendar and watch the days fly by. **

**Leaving me behind.**

* * *

It has been a year now. My father has not returned to duty. Instead he sits in our house, and lets the bills grow higher and higher.

I avoid the house as much as possible.

I'm not a traitor.

Why should I be associated with one?

I come home from training one day and find my father missing. I search for him. I look everywhere, when all of a sudden I catch sight of the stand where my father keeps his tanto.

The sword is gone.

I paw through his wardrobe. His uniform is gone. I sit back on my heels and feel a well of hope bubble up in my throat.

Is he returning to duty?

I cook dinner. I'm only seven years old and small for my age, so I have to drag a chair over to the stove in order to reach. While I am chopping vegetables and throwing them into the bubbling pot I imagine my father clawing his way back to the top. I imagine him going out on missions. Being applauded by civilians when he comes home from missions. Being sent out to the front lines on the missions that no one else is able to do.

I imagine being proud to be his son again.

I am so wrapped up in my fantasies that I hardly notice when the door opens. What I do notice is when the man at the door clears his throat. I spin so quickly that I nearly lose my balance on the chair.

Sensei looks back at me with an expression that I secretly call his 'mission face', because he uses this face when he has to kill someone. His big, goofy grin is gone and I almost miss it. He stands in our doorway awkwardly for a moment, before he strides into the kitchen and lifts me down from the chair. His big arms hold me tightly for a minute before setting me down, and I stare up at him in puzzlement.

"Come on," he tells me, turning away and running a hand wearily through his messy blond hair. "We have to go to the Hokage's tower."

Obediently I pull on my sandals and trot alongside him as we leave the house. The journey to the Hokage's tower is spent in silence, and I begin to wonder what's wrong because my sensei is never this quiet. He probably broke up with Kushina-san.

We arrive at the tower and are allowed into the Hokage's office. My father stands in front of the desk with a harsh expression on his unshaven face. His silver hair is dull and scraggy, scraped into a long ponytail. He is wearing his full uniform and his tanto is strapped to his back. For a moment I can almost delude myself into believing that everything is all right.

Sandaime-sama is seated at his desk with a grave expression on his face. Two people flank him, an old man and an old woman. Their harsh expressions are directed at my father for reasons that I don't understand. Another man stands behind them with his back facing us. He is leaning on a cane and one of his arms is missing. Jiraiya is leaning against the window with an angry look on his face. His teammate, Orochimaru, stands alongside him. Something is terribly wrong.

The Hokage notices us first. "Minato and Kakashi," he greets in a somber voice. Sensei bows and I copy him belatedly. Out of the corner of my eye I see my father glance at me. I pretend he isn't there.

The Hokage stands up and moves around the desk to stand in front of me. "Kakashi," he starts seriously. "We need to talk to you about something very important. Do you know what happened last November?"

I glance up at Sensei for reassurance and he puts one hand on my shoulder. "Hai, Hokage-sama," I say. "O-tou-san went on a mission and his teammates got into trouble so he saved them."

"Condemning the village," the old man behind the desk sniffs angrily, and Sensei's grip tightens.

Sarutobi-sama ignores him. "Yes. Afterwards, a great deal of damage resulted. I do believe that your father thought he was doing the right thing. But many more have died as a result of his actions."

He begins to make his way back to his seat, weighed down with responsibility and sadness. I chance a quick look at my father but he is staring angrily ahead. His face is set in stone.

"You see, Kakashi," I look back at the Hokage. "We can't allow our shinobi to make mistakes on the field that cost such a high price. I am all in favor of giving Sakumo another chance to gain back the village's trust. But," he glares at the old people flanking him. "I have been overruled by the counselors."

"What does that mean?" I ask, trying to stop my voice from shaking.

"This is wrong," Jiraiya snarls from his corner. No one pays any heed, except for Orochimaru who shakes his head in warning at his teammate.

The man in the shadows turns and I want to recoil in surprise but I can't show that I am afraid. His face and arm are heavily bandaged and he leans on his walking stick heavily. A mop of greasy hair covers his head and thick lines score his frightening face. "Your father is going to be exiled," he tells me in a careless voice.

I go numb all over. This isn't the way it's supposed to go! My mind starts to scream silent protests but I can't say anything. I start to shake. I hardly hear it when Jiraiya starts to argue with the counselors. I see their moves moving and their wrinkles contorting in grotesque ways like stone gargoyles come to life but I can't hear what they say. My eyes are locked on the man in the middle who merely listens as they argue about his fate. He stands in the perfect military posture, hands behind his back, legs shoulder-width apart. His dark eyes are the only indication of his inner turmoil.

He turns his gaze and those eyes pierce me to the soul.

_Do you hate me?_ They ask silently.

And because I am a coward, I turn away.

* * *

Nine years is a long time

Even longer when you have nowhere to go.

* * *

**A fact about Hatake Sakumo**

For nine years he would throw his sword into the air and go in the direction that it ended up pointing to.

He lived part of his life balanced on the edge of a blade.

* * *

The sun was setting over the horizon, scarcely seen behind the storm clouds that hung mournfully over the impoverished village. They crowded into the sky to welcome the weary traveler who made his way slowly to the old wooden gates. The soft patter of rain drowned out his light breathing and he drew his black cloak closer around him.

A voice suddenly cut through the heavy air.

"Halt!"

The traveler lifted his head, displaying a head of gray hair and a lined face. Watery blue eyes peered out of sunken sockets as a trembling hand pushed the wool hood back. The man was stooped over with age and grief.

The guard hopped confidently off of the wall top. He was a tall man with a long scar marring his tanned cheek. The rebreather sported by Hanzo's personal guard pushed his black hair back from his forehead.

He approached the old man with an arrogance that would be the death of him. "What is your business here, old man?" he questioned harshly.

The traveler looked up at the guard with his haunted eyes and blinked as the rain ran into them. "My sister was killed several days ago," he rasped in a tired voice. "Her children are parentless. I am here to take care of them."

The guard held one hand out, bored. "Papers."

The old man started to stutter nervously. "I don't have papers, sir. I live on the outskirts of Kirigakure, I have no need for them!"

"Then I can't let you in." He shoved the old man away. The man stumbled and just barely caught himself. "Go on, clear off."

"Please, sir," the man pleaded, clutching at the guard's sleeve. "My nephews… They'll starve!"

"It's no concern of mine," the guard replied heartlessly, turning back to his post.

"I'll ask again." The guard stopped in shock as a deep, powerful voice spoke out from behind him. A sharp tip was suddenly shoved against his back and a well-muscled arm snaked around his neck. The guard twisted in his attacker's grip, craning his neck to see the man's face. With a snap his neck was broken, and the traveler let go, allowing the guard to fall limply to the muddy ground.

The last thing the guard ever saw was a flash of white as the traveler sheathed his blade.

* * *

The sun is disappearing as two shadows flit through the darkness.

Their breath is harsh and the wind tears at their faces and clothes and pulls their hair as if to hold them back.

One falls, scraping his knees on the cruel cement. Without a word his companion grabs him under the arm and hauls him to his feet. They gasp for breath, but there is no time to stop.

The rain cools them down but not enough. Blood pumping, breath spurting into the night with an urgency that could almost be called hysteria, knees throbbing from the fall. Unimportant. They leap over uneven ground and the rocks that threaten to trip them. A fall could kill them. A fall could ruin everything.

* * *

The old man hurries through the streets. His legs stride quickly down the wet alleys, turn corners, dart down thin streets where the buildings are so close together that they seem to be closing in on him.

His bent back straightens and he is suddenly several feet taller. The lines begin to recede from his skin and sculpted cheekbones frame his aquiline nose and coal colored eyes.

Silver hair bursts from his head, growing down to his back in a matter of seconds. He pulls it into a low ponytail and yanks his hood back up to cover his face.

* * *

So close…

Ignoring the soft whimpers that come from the figure lying bound at his feet, the man turns to his companion.

"How long?" he murmurs.

"Several minutes at most, sir," the other replies softly. "We'll know when they pass the first squadron."

"Good," his commander says, no longer bothering to keep his voice down. After all, they were almost here. A sharp smile curves his thin lips as he stares unblinkingly down the dirt path that leads to the group. "This game ends now."

* * *

On a clifftop overlooking the small group amassed below sits a man clad in shadows. He leans back against a protruding tree, watching calmly. A flash of movement catches his eye, and he turns his head to watch.

Two figures race through the fog that shrouds the village, directly towards the ambush that awaits them.

"At last," he hisses in a murderous voice, "it begins."

He is so focused on the two boys that he doesn't see the dark figure that also moves through the fog, on a direct collision course with the running figures.

* * *

A/N: What do you think? Better than the first go around? A lot of this story will change, and a lot will stay the same. Reviews make me update a lot quicker!


	2. Chapter 1: Speak of the devil

One of Us

Chapter One: Speak of the devil

A/N: I'm back!! Sorry for the wait! So, here's the first chapter. I haven't really got much to say, except that I hope you enjoy this chapter. Please review and tell me what you think!!!!

* * *

Said I to Pain: "You would not dare

Do ill to me."

Said Pain: "Poor fool! Why should I care

Whom you may be?

To clown and king alike I bring

My mead of bane;

Why should you shirk my chastening?"

Said Pain.

Said I to Grief: "No tears have I,

Go on your way."

Said Grief: "Why should I pass you by,

While others pay?

All men must know the way of woe,

From saint to thief,

And tears were meant to overflow,"

Said Grief.

Said I to Death: "From ail and fret

Grant me relief."

Said Death: "I know you are beset

By Pain and Grief.

But my good will you must await

Since human breath

To suffering is consecrate,"

Said Death.

* * *

The whisper of voices on the wind is what alerts the traveler to the danger ahead. Freezing in his tracks, he cocks one ear and listens intently. Pressing his back up against a grimy stonewall, he squints through the thick fog that covers the village. Even with his sharp eyesight, he can't make anyone out. Sliding forwards, he raises his face to the breeze and breaths in deeply.

_Just up ahead. At least fifteen shinobi._

An ambush, he muses to himself. But how had they been alerted to his presence so quickly? He spins suddenly as he hears light footsteps approaching rapidly. His onyx eyes widen in shock as two young men burst from the thick fog, running as if the devil himself is at their heels.

They pant desperately for breath, thin chests heaving. They are both young, about seventeen. The boy closest to the traveler is lean and wiry, clad in loose black pants covered with a long black cloak. A katana is clasped firmly in his hand. His head is covered with a shock of flaming hair that stands out like a candle in the bleak fog. His pale features are handsome, dominated by frantic black eyes.

His companion wears the same clothing, topped with a slashed Amegakure headband. He too has red hair although his is longer and darker. It hangs to his thin shoulders and covers half of his face. The eye that peers from the thick curtain of hair is a strange metallic color with a series of rings like ripples in a pond.

The boys skid to a stop in the wet street and move automatically to stand back-to-back. The one with the katana scans the area with an intense gaze and the traveler presses his back firmly against the wall. They move to take cautious steps towards the direction of the voices that the traveler had heard earlier, and he feels a weight lift from his heart. Perhaps he is not the one who is being hunted.

The traveler silently retreats, watching the two boys advance slowly through the mist to their hidden foes. With a parting glance, he slips away like a ghost.

* * *

As a sweep of crimson blocks out the moon, the screams of the injured grow stronger in Hatake Kakashi's ears. The young ANBU throws himself into a roll and half collapses, half crouches alongside a woman lying limply on the bloody ground.

"Miss?" he rolls the still figure over and a scream of horror rips its way out of his throat. The girl's face is pale and covered in blood that nearly conceals the purple stripes on her cheeks. Her beautiful brown eyes are still open and stare blankly past him. Her long brown hair is draped over his arm as he cradles her head. He lets the tears drip down his cheeks, soaking into the mask as he screams out the name of the teammate who can no longer hear him. He doesn't know how long he holds her, only that the sky starts to darken and the screams start to fade and he is the only one who is untouched by the monster's fury. He looks up at the mountainous fox. The beams of chakra fly past him as though he is untouchable and he has an urge to jump in front of them because he cannot bear to be left behind again. Kakashi lies Rin down on the bloody ground and brushes her hair back from her face with a trembling hand. Then he turns away and is violently sick.

Kakashi climbs slowly to his feet and wipes a hand across his sweaty face, leaving a smear of blood on his mask. The young man looks up and his mismatched eyes narrow with hatred.

The Kyuubi bays at the moon in a voice that shakes the ground below the shinobis' feet. One of its tails comes down with a crushing thud on a group of hapless shinobi and a burst of chakra shoots from its gaping maw.

Kakashi throws himself out of the way but is caught in the aftershock as a building behind him explodes. He tumbles to the ground in an ungainly roll. He struggles back to his feet. To stay down would be suicidal.

"Hold him back!" The shout cuts through the screams and curses and somehow makes itself heard. "Yondaime is coming!"

Kakashi lunges forwards towards the monster as a ragged cheer erupts from the ninja. "Take your time, Sensei," he whispers from between clenched teeth. "You're already too late."

* * *

Light footsteps through the sea of fog grow ever closer. The group of ninja stands in frozen anticipation. There are twenty of them, ten sporting the Konoha headband, and ten from Ame.

A single man stands out in front of the group of reinforcements that he doesn't need. Hanzo of the Salamander himself. He wears a large metal rebreather and battle-scarred armor. His blond hair hangs down his back, and his strange black eyes scan the street. His breath hisses through the metal monstrosity on his face, growing quicker with excitement. One of his muscular arms pins a slender figure to his side, ignoring her futile struggles. The girl is slim and well muscled with a tousled head of blue hair that matches her aquamarine eyes. Dark make-up covers her heavy eyelids and she wears a black cloak and loose black pants.

One of the blond man's large hands is clamped firmly over her mouth, preventing her from making a sound and alerting their prey to their position.

As the footsteps grow nearer, the man in front waves his free hand and the men begin to spread out in every direction, enclosing the street and sinking into the mist to give their commander the illusion of being alone. The girl begins to struggle harder and the man tightens his already painful grip. He raises his head, dark eyes narrowed in excitement as two figures begin to emerge slowly from the fog.

Suddenly, a shout cuts through the fog. "AMBUSH!! AMBUSH!!"

Hanzo swears viciously as the two boys suddenly disappear into the mist. With a harsh command, he sends the men racing after the fleeing teenagers.

He glances down to see the girl's eyes curl into a victorious smirk as the unfamiliar voice continues to lead the rebels to safety.

* * *

From his seat overlooking the street, the man in the mask leaps to his feet and reaches out with his senses. The boys had almost reached the ambush when an unfamiliar voice had alerted them to the danger ahead. The man sneers beneath his orange mask. Now they were fleeing and if he didn't get them back on track, Nagato would never fight Hanzo.

He scans the area slowly. An unfamiliar, but cleverly concealed source of chakra leaps out at his senses, and he narrows his eyes slowly. This shinobi is obviously highly skilled and must be dealt with before he causes any more problems.

The man in the mask flies from rooftop to rooftop like a bat, his dark cloak billowing behind him. He lands soundlessly and pulls a katana from its sheath on his back. Holding it loosely in a gloved hand, he advances through the mist.

* * *

The two boys dart around another corner, following the voice that had alerted them to the danger ahead.

Bursting from an alley into the deserted marketplace, they skid to a halt as a figure leaps from the mist and lands in front of them.

He is an exceedingly strange looking man. His face is covered with an orange and black mask that falls into shadow below his halo of inky hair that cascades over his muscular shoulders. He wears a loose black cloak and one hand holds a katana. The man walks like a predator, skulking from foot to foot. The orange mask stares at them in surprise for a long moment.

As the two boys gaze at the cloaked man, their pursuers pour into the marketplace, spreading out to capture them. The man in the mask inclines his head mockingly, and disappears so quickly that the rebels wonder if they had imagined his presence. But there is no time to worry about strange men in masks, as they turn their gaze to the men who seek to kill them.

The Ame and Konoha ninja face off against the two rebels in complete silence. They shift restlessly and the boys chance a quick glance at each other. The shinobi seem to be waiting for something.

A cold voice cuts through the fog. "Impressive that you have lasted so long, rebels. Needless to say, your race is run."

Both boys glance up in despair. The reaper is here.

Hanzo pushes his way through his men, dragging Konan behind him. Her beautiful face is bruised and covered with dirt, and one eye is swelling shut. The tyrant comes to a stop about twenty feet away from the two boys and stares at them intently. Nagato and Yahiko stare back determinedly, appearing thin and rather pathetic alongside the gleaming armor of Hanzo's men.

"So," he begins in a deceptively quiet voice. "Who are you two children to think yourselves capable of matching my abilities? Are you working for some other rebel? I refuse to believe that you are the leaders of this pathetic rebellion."

Yahiko's back straightens and he shakes his unruly orange hair out of his face. His blue eyes stare at his nemesis determinedly. "I am the leader of this rebellion. Let the girl go, and I will come quietly."

"Come quietly? Where to?" Hanzo's eyes narrow in mock confusion. "I have no intention of taking you anywhere. All I want is to see you dead, if you really are the rebel leader."

He pauses, raising one gloved fist to his chin contemplatively. "But how to kill you, hmm? It must be painful. You see, I can't have rebels running amok, thinking themselves more powerful than I am. I am a busy man; I have no time for futile resistance and pointless rebellions. So, I need to give the villagers an example of what happens to those who oppose me. An example so frightening that they immediately abandon all hope that they might have had in defeating me." His eyes widen patronizingly. "Now, I'm back to the same dilemma. How to kill you…"

He taps one finger against his rebreather, although the two rebels both know that this display of indecision is just for show. Suddenly, Hanzo's sharp black eyes fix on Nagato and a smirk slowly forms on his cruel face.

* * *

From his perch on a rooftop above the marketplace, the white-haired traveler peers at the strange group in confusion.

The boys are obviously being hunted, lured in by the presence of the captured girl who dangles limply from Hanzo's hand. But who are these children? How can they be so powerful that Hanzo himself is here to kill them? Hanzo has called them rebels numerous times. The traveler watches these rebels, unsure what to make of them. They look like ordinary beggars, yet they move like shinobi and are hunted by one of the most powerful men alive. These are no ordinary children.

As he gazes down at them, his senses suddenly start to tingle. The strange feeling known as the sixth sense pounds at his mind urgently, and he glances around himself warily. He has learned a long time ago to trust these senses. There is danger here. Invisible, but here.

He feels the sweat start to form on his brow, but forces himself to remain calm and pretend to continue to watch the spectacle below. His heart is racing.

Does Hanzo know that I'm here?

In his anxiety, the man failed to notice that he was no longer hiding his chakra signature.

* * *

Nagato and Yahiko glare defiantly at Hanzo, trying to mask their growing fear as his harsh eyes crinkle into a sneer. He takes a step forwards, dragging Konan and she widens her eyes, trying to wordlessly convince them to run.

All of a sudden, all heads spin in the same direction. An unfamiliar chakra signal flares up from a rooftop overlooking the crowded marketplace. It is like a beacon. Or perhaps, a diversion. Hanzo narrows his eyes and, not taking his eyes off of the two boys, jerks his head at several of his men, who immediately slink away into the mist.

A startled shout echoes through the fog a second later, and the rain is suddenly drowned out by the clashing of blades. The noise ends abruptly and the two men reappear, dragging another man between them.

The man is tall and wiry, but with a thin frame that speaks of days on the run and frequently missed meals. His filthy white hair hangs in his face and his dark eyes blaze like fire, blinking away the blood that runs from a slash across his forehead. He struggles to pull free from the two men who hold him, paying little heed to the knife held to his throat.

Hanzo's black eyes widen dramatically. "Well, if it isn't the White Fang of Konoha himself." He tilts his head, voice mocking. "How the mighty have fallen."

The disgraced jounin raises his head, and bares his teeth like an animal. "Fallen, you say?" He rasps in a hoarse, unused voice. "Why don't you have your men let me go, and we'll see how far I've fallen. What say you, Hanzo? Shall we see how one legend fares against another?"

Hanzo allows himself to laugh, amusement leaking out into the frigid air. "If you can be defeated by mere lackeys, you are not worth my time. They claimed you to be the equivalent of the Sannin. I defeated the Sannin. I'll deal with you in a moment." His voice grows dismissive and he turns back to his original prey, still cornered by the group of men. "So, rebel leader, where were we?"

Yahiko stares back at him with unbroken spirit in his eyes. "Right back where we started, Hanzo. Kill us if you will, this rebellion is far from over! This tyranny has gone on long enough. Our people have starved for too long, been crushed underfoot for too long. No more orphans, no more poverty, no more war. This country is moving on to greatness, Hanzo, and you won't be moving with it. You're a remnant of the past that everyone else has left behind. But you can't, because the past is all you have left. The future is ours, Hanzo. Even if we die here, the rebellion will continue. The people will fight back, no matter what you do to us." His voice grows louder, and everyone stares at the teenager, astonished by his nerve. "Torture us if you will, Hanzo, our deaths will not go unavenged. Some day, a hero will come. And when you fall at that hero's feet, don't you dare say that I didn't warn you. At least we would have made your death quick."

Hanzo's face had grown stony throughout the speech. He lashes out suddenly, and the boy stumbles from the force of the blow.

Nagato reaches out and catches Yahiko's arm, preventing him from falling. The young man looks up, spitting blood out from his mouth, and his face twists into a painful smile.

"Better start digging your grave, Hanzo," he jeers, wiping his face on his sleeve. "The next generation is hurtling towards you."

Hanzo laughs coldly. "A pretty speech, boy, but an untruthful one. What do you know of the world? There is no hero coming to save this country. There is no hero coming to save you and your friends." He allows his cruel words to slither out from the metal rebreather like a gust of cold air. "You're such an idealist."

"No." Yahiko stands firm. "Just a believer."

"This is the end, boy!" Hanzo yanks Konan towards him roughly. She colloids with his armor painfully, but freezes as he places a kunai under her chin, scraping it against her pale skin. "You, boy with the dark hair. Kill your leader, or the girl dies."

* * *

Sakumo stares at the strange scene before him, wondering how the hell he wound up here. He should have known better than to come to a village involved in a civil war, but he was a firm believer that nothing happened without a reason. The sword had lead him here. Maybe this was where he had to be. This fight was happening for a reason. Maybe its outcome depends on him.

The boy with the strange eyes flinches as Hanzo pulls a kunai from his armor and throws it to him. He reaches up, catching it automatically, and stares into the blade as if the solution is written there. He turns his rippled gaze to his red-haired friend, whose arm he still supports, and then back to the girl.

"Nagato," the red-haired leader whispers.

"Yes, Nagato," Hanzo mocks, pushing the blade harder against the girl's throat, "Kill your leader. It's the noble thing to do. One friend for the other. Because, if you don't kill him, I'll kill your friend. When she's dead, I'll kill you and your leader. So," he shrugs nonchalantly. "One death, or three. Make your choice."

"Run!" The girl whispers, trying to conserve her breath. "Both of you get out of here-"

Hanzo shoves the knife harder into her throat. A thin line of blood appears. "Don't listen to her, Nagato. Kill your leader!"

As if possessed, the boy turns to face his friend, eyes wide. His hand drops the other's arm, which falls limply to his side and stumbles backwards. They face off in complete silence. Yahiko's eyes are resigned. Nagato's are desperate.

Nagato holds the kunai out in front of him, pointing at his friend, but his eyes say it all. He can't kill him, but he can't let the girl die either.

Yahiko takes a step forwards, and his arms come up as if to embrace his friend. A collective breath is drawn in sharply. The young rebel leader's intentions are clear.

Hanzo's eyes narrow maliciously.

Konan turns her head and squeezes her eyes shut, ignoring the tears that spill down her cheeks.

Nagato's eyes widen in horror.

Yahiko walks in an unerring line towards the kunai that his friend still holds in shaking hands.

Sakumo watches with bated breath. He lets out his breath in a sharp gasp and remembers what he thought only a couple minutes ago. _Maybe I'm supposed to change the outcome of this fight._ And then he squints and through slitted eyes, he can pretend that Yahiko's hair is silver, that his eyes are black. He pretends that it is Kakashi who leans forwards, chest touching the trembling knife.

And then he wrenches free of the men's grasp and throws himself at the two boys.

* * *

A/N: Sorry it took so long to get up! I really hope this chapter made up for the lateness. Please read and review!!!!!!

Btw, just to raise the anticipation for the next chapter: You're going to be surprised. The fight's going to be different this time around. And yes, I will write the fight, unlike last time. (Cringe)


	3. Chapter 2: The last weapon

Chapter Two: The last weapon

A/N: Hey everyone! Hopefully the wait wasn't too long, but I think that it's worth it. I really like this chapter, and would love feedback telling me if you do too. Hope you enjoy this chapter, and thanks to all of my reviewers!

The song below is Hero by Nickelback. Go listen to it! I wrote this chapter while listening to this awesome song!

* * *

I am so high, I can hear heaven.

I am so high, I can hear heaven.

Oh but heaven, no heaven don't hear me.

And they say that a hero can save us.

I'm not gonna stand here and wait.

I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.

Watch as we all fly away.

Someone told me love will all save us.

But how can that be, look what love gave us.

A world full of killing, and blood-spilling

That world never came.

And they say that a hero can save us.

I'm not gonna stand here and wait.

I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.

Watch as we all fly away.

Now that the world isn't ending, its love that I'm sending to you.

It isn't the love of a hero, and that's why I fear it wont do.

And they say that a hero can save us.

I'm not gonna stand here and wait.

I'll hold onto the wings of the eagles.

Watch as we all fly away.

And they're watching us

(Watching Us)

And they're watching us

(Watching Us)

As we all fly away

* * *

Time seems to freeze as Sakumo flings himself at the two boys. Yahiko has moved forwards, throwing himself towards the dark blade. The young rebel leader doesn't see the jounin coming. His eyes are closed. With a shout of anger, Hanzo lunges forwards, accidentally letting go of Konan.

Sakumo flies into Yahiko, knocking them both over backwards, away from the blade. They land in a heap on the wet ground, and Yahiko stares at the older man in shock.

"Why?" he whispers, so low that only his rescuer can hear him.

Sakumo stares back at the younger man, various emotions pooling in his dark eyes. "You remind me of someone," he whispers back, and then hands seize him and pull him away from the fallen rebel.

Hanzo's eyes are narrowed to slits in his cruel face as his claw like hands tighten around Sakumo's throat. Choking, the jounin reaches for his tanto, which had been knocked from his hands in the impact. He felt his fingertips brush it, and strained forwards, feeling his vision grow darker.

A clash of medal announces Nagato's presence. The redhead snatches up Sakumo's sword and brings it down on Hanzo's shoulder. The tyrant howls with rage and kicks out viciously, sending the boy flying. Sakumo lashes out blindly, and manages to connect with Hanzo's elbow. Hanzo releases his grip, but recovers quickly. Hanzo forms seals rapidly and a wall of ice blasts from the ground, knocking Yahiko and Nagato away. The tyrant turns and lashes out at Sakumo, but the White Fang is ready for him. Leaning backwards, he avoids the blow. Hanzo's gloved fist skims his chest, but the man retreats so suddenly that Sakumo blinks in shock.

Hanzo leaps backwards and a cruel smirk curls his thin lips beneath his rebreather. Sakumo pauses, wondering what was happening when he hears shouting. Yahiko and Nagato are screaming something at him, but he doesn't hear. Their faces grow desperate and he scans the area around him.

The girl appears quite literally from nowhere. She swoops from the sky on paper wings that attach themselves to the back of her cloak and scratches frantically at his chest. Glancing down, he sees the bundle of explosive notes pasted across his chest and his hands join hers, tearing them away desperately.

Hanzo raises one hand, meeting Sakumo's eyes. He mouths one word, hidden beneath his rebreather, but Sakumo doesn't have to guess what it is.

"_Boom."_

A cloud of smoke obscures the two struggling figures and both boys race forwards, mouths screaming out words that are swept away by the wave of noise. Ame ninja descend on them and they are obscured by the wave of enemies.

Yahiko struggles on, clawing forwards in an attempt to reach the place where his friend and their unknown ally disappeared. His sword swings through flesh and bounces off armor but his attention is focused solely on the thinning smoke.

A pair of feet appear, burnt black sandals hanging on to them limply. Tattered black clothing covers the girl's thin body and she is stretched out on her back, eyes closed. Burns are scattered over her grimy skin, but the damage is considerably less then it should be. Her scrawny chest struggles for oxygen and she starts to cough, eyes opening slowly.

The reason for the girl's limited burns lies alongside her. The jounin's muscular chest is badly burnt and his cloak has been reduced to thin tatters of material that dangled from his scorched shoulders and flit weakly around his injured skin. His long hair is loose from its customary ponytail and lies on the dirty ground around his head, mingling with the girl's blue locks. His face is obscured by his black cloak, which he had evidently pulled over it in an attempt to protect his eyes. A small flame burns on his pant leg, but Konan reaches over and presses a piece of her cloak over it.

She sits up dizzily, eyes trying to focus on the fight. Nagato's blood runs cold as he sees Hanzo, who has concealed himself in the shadows, begin to advance on the girl and the injured man.

There was a chance to save them. But the chance was almost certainly suicidal. Nagato stares at Konan and wonders briefly why he has never told her how much she means to him. Almost unaware of the Konoha ninja in front of him, he lifts his kunai to block a blow aimed at his head. He catches himself staring at the weapon as he runs the man through.

It is the same knife that Hanzo had given him to kill Yahiko with. But Nagato cannot picture a world without Yahiko in it.

He looks at Konan and tries to imagine life without her.

Hanzo advances on the oblivious girl.

_We all have our roles. Yahiko protects us, gives us a reason to survive. Konan holds us together, allows us to keep going. _

_ And me? What do I do? _

_ They need to survive. But me… If I can save her… At the risk of my own life…_

_How could I not take that risk?_

Suddenly, his duty is clear to him. The kunai slips from his fingers and lands with the point buried in the earth, marking the spot. He begins to walk forwards and Hanzo's eyes narrow maliciously as he sees the boy advancing on him.

Nagato is beyond caring when Hanzo's arm snakes out and throws a kunai at him. The rebel raises his hand and it pierces his palm. He curls his fingers around it, relishing the jolt of awareness that accompanies the pain.

Pain descends on his mind and wraps around him comfortingly, like a pair of ghostly arms. "Pain," he whispers to himself. It is all that keeps him going. The chakra bursts from his body, dancing around him, and everyone stops fighting to watch. His mind is full of poison and agony. It turns on Hanzo for hurting his friends, on Konoha for killing his parents, on Jiraiya for leaving them, on everyone who has ever hurt them. On the world for not understanding. On the war, for existing. On anything. Everything. Everything he can think of.

He hates the rain clouds that weep under the weight of his fury.

He hates the tap of the raindrops that beat a mournful rhythm on Hanzo's rebreather.

He hates the child who cries when she drops a book on her foot, unaware that there are far better reasons to cry in this world.

He hates the smoke that rises from the white-haired man's clothing.

He hates.

He hates.

He hates.

He hates, but he loves as well.

He loves the sun that hides behind the wall of clouds.

He loves the teardrops that cling to Konan's eyelashes.

He loves the words that spill from Yahiko's mouth; words that he is incapable of hearing.

He loves the quiet that pushes down on him.

He loves the pain that makes him strong.

He loves that he is still capable of loving; that even amidst this world of darkness there is still a glimmer of hope.

His eyes open even wider and he sees a set of scales in the mist; scales that only he has the ability to see.

On one side is hate. On the other is love.

It is balanced perfectly in the middle.

But he is no longer bound by the mortal views that lashed him to the ground. His is a three-sided scale, and balanced perfectly in the middle is another choice. Pain.

"Pain," he whispers, and then he yells it, breaking the silence that chokes him. "PAIN! PAIN!"

It is his chant. He sets his feet down in time to the beautiful rhythm that it beats, breathes to it, and his hands flash into seals. He bursts into flight, leaping over Konan and the unconscious man and landing between them and Hanzo.

He lands in a low crouch and smiles up radiantly at his nemesis. His blood thrums in his ears, speaking to him.

_I can do this. I can save her. _

A statue the size of a demon bursts from the ground, rain sliding over its sides like water over a duck's back. It is a monstrous creation, with a horrible head that hangs forwards, leering with broken, gaping teeth. It resembles no creature of the earth, but some horrid creation of a twisted nightmare. Its eyes are hidden by a thick band and its gnarled limbs, like the trunks of a twisted tree, smash into the ground, making the very earth tremble. Its skin is rough and uneven, like a goblin or a troll's hide.

Black rods burst from its deformed abdomen and pierce Nagato's back. He screams in agony, but it turns to maniacal laughter as Hanzo rears back in alarm. The statue opens its gaping maw and from its fetid depths bursts a dragon-like creature made of pure, deadly chakra. The creature swoops at Hanzo, driving him back. The tyrant's face is blank, schooled into a stony expression through years of experience, but his eyes betray his fear.

Yahiko and Konan scream in synchronization as Nagato's back arches in pain. His flesh is disappearing as they watch, leaving him emaciated and weak. His back curves over like an old man's as he directs the monster into a group of shinobi. His arms turn stick thin as he sends the dragon after a fleeing man. His legs turn thin and wobble beneath his weight, and the flesh is leeched from his chest, leaving every rib poking through the skin that is barely there.

He raises his head, cheeks sunken and gaunt, and haunted eyes full of victory. Nagato's ringed eyes meet Hanzo's as the tyrant stands on a pile of rubble, eyes following the creature with horror and fear of the unknown.

"Well, Hanzo," he gasps weakly, every breath costing him. "Any last words?"

With a supreme effort, the armored man manages to recover some remnants of his past arrogance. "I will not be defeated here, boy! Your abilities are impressive for one of your age, but you are not the savior that your naïve friend believes in!"

"Yes, he is." The voice erupts from Yahiko with an intensity that surprises them all. The redhead is crouched alongside Konan, over the body of the injured man who risked his life to save hers. His eyes watch Nagato with conviction. "He is. You know why, Hanzo?" he raises his gaze to meet their enemy's furious eyes. "Because he has a weapon that you don't have. A weapon that you can never understand."

Hanzo laughs mirthlessly. "And am I to believe that this so-called weapon can overcome all of my abilities?"

Yahiko got to his feet. "Yes. Have you figured out what it is yet?"

"I'd imagine it would be love," Hanzo sneered. "A visionary's most pathetic weapon."

"Wrong!" Yahiko's voice snaps like a whip. "It stems from love, yes, but it is not love." He steps forwards to face off against the tyrant. "It's pain."

"Pain," Hanzo breathes, the beautiful word sounding all wrong on his lips. Then he looks up and his black eyes crease into the most horrible smile ever imaginable. "Since you all love pain so much," he whispers, the words floating across the street and crawling into Nagato's ears. "Let me give you some more."

In a flash he is across the street and there is a katana in his hand. Nagato starts but he can't move on his skeletal legs, and Konan tries to rise but her burnt feet can't support her and Yahiko moves to dodge, but he is too late-

Hanzo smirks into Yahiko's face as the blood bursts from the young rebel's lips, highlighting his shocked expression. "Your precious pain didn't save you this time. Did it?"

* * *

A/N: I know that I said this fight would be different. However, some of these differences won't be clear yet. Sorry I had to knock Sakumo out, but there was a purpose for that and I also needed him out of the way so that the kids could fight Hanzo without any distractions. I know that he's the main character and I'm going to make him really important in the next chapter.

One thing that I've noticed about authors that I really like are that they tell you what to expect next chapter. I like this idea, but I'm not going to use it unless I absolutely know. Sometimes I'm just writing and BAM! I'm not writing what I intended to write about in this chapter, but I like it anyway.

I really like this chapter and I hope you do too! Please review!!!! (Ha ha I'm a poet)  
(Btw, who saw the opening ceremonies for the Olympics? Pretty awesome, huh?)


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